Past the Prime
by Cryptid Hunter
Summary: Holden Caulfield meets me, twenty or so years in the future... originally a school assignment, I decided to upload it for the heck of it. Mortality is discussed as a leaf falls from a tree, beginning the slow descent into death... Rated for language


**A/N: A story we had to meet about meeting Holden Caulfield; I wrote it from Holden's perspective, about meeting me. It wasn't exactly what my teacher was looking for, but I had fun writing it. Just beware: it's depressing. Also, for whatever reason, my teacher limited us to two double-spaced pages. I was cruising along, doing well, and then I realized that I'd consumed half the space just with the introduction. So that's why the dialogue sounds a little... rushed. **

**I'm not a recluse; therefore I am not J.D. Salinger and don't own the rights to this.**

It was cold as a witch's teat out on that bench. It was October, almost Halloween and all, so there wasn't any snow yet. I was in that park where the old carousel used to be. Underneath a maple tree. It was sort of nice, underneath that tree. I just had to be careful not to look over where the carousel used to be. It depressed the hell out of me, it really did. There wasn't anything wrong with the carousel, but some government bastards decided that it was too old to be safe. There was a big town meeting and everything about it. But they took it down anyway. All the kids who grew up with it didn't care about it anymore. They're so obsessed with their goddam _jobs_, always talking on their cell phones. They never just sit and look around. Never appreciate the past. Never just take a goddam _break_. It depresses the hell out of me, it really does.

Anyway, I was sitting on that bench when I noticed someone sitting next to me. He was reading a book, something by Bradbury or some other fancy bastard. I couldn't really see the title though; his hand was sort of blocking it it. He turned the page and kept reading, not even noticing I was watching him. That killed me, I swear to God. When someone is so obsessed with their book they don't even notice you. I'm like that, sometimes. Sometimes it's good just to ignore those phony bastards. Leave 'em behind.

All of a sudden, a leaf the color of orange soda just kind of fell into my lap. Just fell from the tree. It reminded me of when D.B. and me used to make leaf piles for Allie and Phoebe. We'd work on it for practically the whole goddamn afternoon, making it as big as hell, and then finally letting them play in it. I looked at the leaf, for a minute. I felt sort of sorry for it, that little leaf. Its life was basically over. I mean, it couldn't just go up and reattach itself to the goddam tree. All that was left was for it to ripped to shreds by bastards who didn't even give a damn what they were walking over. Thinking about that leaf, it got me depressed again. I needed to talk to somebody, just chew the fat for a while.

"You ever feel like your life is over?" I said to the guy on the bench.

"No," he said, looking up at me. I got a good look at his face; he had brown hair and eyes, pretty corny-looking. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, what do leaves feel like when they fall from the tree?" I said. "Do they know that their lives are basically over?"

"Well, leaves do not have nerves, thus they are incapable of feeling," he said. What a guy. Witty as hell.

"No, I mean, what is it like? Knowing you're past your prime?" I said. I had been worrying about this for quite a while. I mean, you would have to be a blind bastard not to see that I'm losing about half my hair each day. And I get winded much more easily. Well, easier than usual. I just couldn't help but feel that my life was over.

"Are you saying that you're life's over at thirty-five?"

"No, but-"

"Listen. You have plenty of life ahead of you. Relax and enjoy it."

I thought for a second. "But what happens when I do fall off the crumby tree? What'll happen then?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Then you'll fall off the tree. Look. You can live life to the fullest and die, or you can worry about it and die. Either way, you're gonna die."

I sighed. I pulled out a carton of cigarettes. I smoke like a fiend, I still do. "Want a cigarette?" I said to him.

"Smoking kills."

"I know."

**A/N: Told you it was depressing. I actually got the last two lines from an early version of the awesome comic strip "Pearls Before Swine," found in the collection _Sgt. Piggy's Lonely Hearts Club Band_. **

**Reviews are always welcome!**


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